I hate everyone and everything tonight

The BBQ Pit
1

My son is driving me nuts. My dog is driving me nuts. My dissertation is driving me nuts. My cat is nearly driving me nuts. The goddamn fed ex people who were just here were driving me nuts. My husband, who thankfully took over at bathtime before I broke both my son’s arms off in frustration, is blessedly not driving me nuts at the moment, but give it time.

The book I am reading fucking sucks. It truly blows, and I don’t know what keeps me from setting a match to it. In fact, now that I think about it, Anita Shreve always bugs me, so why the fuck did I start this book in the first place? My financial situation at the moment hovers between dire and desperate. I hate how much fucking halloween candy I’ve been eating, I hate these freaking goddamn lady bugs that are everywhere, and I loathe how ten of you right now have your fucking fingers poised over the keyboard ready to inform me that these are not, in fact, Lady bugs, but are rather Asian Lady Beetles. Fine, they still piss me off.

Did I mention that I hate my dissertation? I did? Fuck you, I’ll say it again. I hate my data. I hate that my dissertation advisor wants me to do a Discriminant Analysis which I don’t know jack shit about. I hate that I didn’t quit at the master’s degree and could have known happiness for the past five years instead of having this huge awful fucking albatross on me all the time.

I can’t find an emery board and my nails are a mess. Something as simple as an emery board eludes me tonight.

I hate that my son is potty training right now. I’m so sick of cheering for him every time he pees in the toilet. When did life come to this? Plus he’s at an age where every five minutes I want to drop to my knees and ask, “Did I destroy him already? Is that why he is like this? Did I fuck up my little tabula rasa in a mere 2 1/2 years? Why is this child the spawn of the devil?”

I must have bought $200 worth of pens at various times in the past year, each of them designed to bring easy writing and good luck. It took me little more than a week to lose each one of them. WHAT A WASTE! I couldn’t find a decent pen now to save my life. And I will not go out an buy another because (a) I’d just lose the bastard and (b) I’d really just be stalling on doing any more work.

The ice cream in the freezer has those disgusting large crystals on it, the ones that scream “I tasted better before these things formed, dumbass!”

I hate the beer we have in the house right now. I’m not in the mood for wine, fucking thanks for reminding me with your helpful little oeniphile suggestion.

I am not even sure this rant made me feel better.

Anything else getting the goat of a fellow Doper on this fine Friday night?

2

I still love you Cranky.

3

That was a thing of beauty!

~wipes tear from eye~

I’m going to go punch someone in the face for you right now.

4

If it makes you feel any better, they’re all the spawn of the devil between the ages of 2 and 3 (or 2 and 5, if they’re my first). And, yes, I realize you knew that already, because you’re obviously a fine mom, but it never hurts to have corroboration.

I’m impressed that you got a masters and were still tenacious enough to go for the PhD, sucky as the dissertation is.

I have vodka and I’d share it with you if I were within driving distance (you’re not in New Mexico right now, are you?).

5

I’d say the fact that my boy was gone for good when I got home from work today is getting my goat. :frowning:

I’ll lend you my emery board if it’ll make you feel better, Cranky.

6

And while I’m at it - I hate that I bought and moved into this house two months ago and still haven’t unpacked. And you know what, I don’t miss any of the crap I’ve been collecting over the past 32 years. There my life sits in piles of boxes around me, mocking me, daring me to be sentimental and I couldn’t care less if every piece of it were to be mysteriously tossed out the window. God knows that the vultures in this fucking neighborhood (the ones who stole our garbage cans WITH the garbage in it AND my pink flamingo from the front yard) would have it picked clean in minutes. That or the surly teenage son of loser Section 8 tenant that this house came with would set it on fire with his lip-ringed little shit friends as they have taken to burning every other fucking thing in the yard.

kl,============================ And if the cat steps on my keyboard one more time, she’s going right out with the box of my grammar school spelling tests.

Phew.

I’m going to go finish the cake in the fridge so I can get even fatter.

7

awwwwwww, poor cranky!!!
{{{{{cranky}}}}}

8

[sub]Wow. She IS as cranky as an old man![/sub]

9

Step 1: Put down the Anita Shreve book. I hate her. Reading one page of her writing is enough to give me a migraine. (And I never understand the goddamn endings to her stupid books!)

I am also having a shitty Friday night. I stayed home to work on my paper for Brit Lit, and I went out at 7:15 to get subs. I took my brother with me. My brother, you understand, who works 12 hours every day (from 5am to 5pm) to make money for school. So I went into the sub shop and ordered and waited, while he dozed off in the car. He was really, really tired, and I was parked right in front of the sub shop, so I could see him.

Well, as I’m waiting, reading my Vogue, I notice a cop knocking on the window of my car. I walk out and ask if I can help him while my brother wakes up in the car (clearly, he’s a little confused about where he is.) The cop grills me for five minutes about him, and I explain what I just said about him working. The cop apparently is convinced that my brother is drunk or drugged, which he is not. Another cop car rolls up into this tiny sub parking lot. So the other cop consults with my cop. WTF? What law am I breaking? Are car passengers NOT allowed to nap while the driver runs in a store to get a fucking sub?

Finally, they drop it. Of course, they don’t apologize for harrassing me (which is what they were doing; we weren’t breaking any laws. We weren’t doing anything remotely suspicious except for napping. Perhaps the way his head was leaning was suspicious.)

Then they go in the sub shop and order. Now I placed my order fifteen minutes before the cops; the sub shop employees make the cop’s sub in five minutes. And the cop ordered the same sub as me! So I KNOW they gave him my fucking sub! I had to wait an extra fifteen minutes! I bitched about it and the owner came out and gave me a free 2-liter Coke. Thanks a fucking lot.

Argh! Is there no justice in this world?

I hope you feel better, Cranky. I feel your pain.

10

See we need to work out an exchange. Every day I go to work, put a fresh pen in my pocket, then end up forgetting about it, carrying it home, and taking it out when I shed my shirt. I must have 500 fucking pens covering every surface of my house - cheap ones, expensive ones ( we take mild liberties with the order forms sometimes ), and in-between. They’re everywhere. I can’t pick a book up off a shelf anywhere in the house without 2 or 3 pens rolling out.

Well, I’d have to see a picture :wink: . Want me too post a dichotomous key for you? No? Well, maybe when you’re feeling better :slight_smile: .

As for myself, I’m feeling fine. But it seems like every one I know I is going through existential ( or financial ) angst of some sort in the last day or two and they’re all coming to me for sorting. A buddy needs to borrow needs borrow several hundred bucks tonight( not tomorrow, not Munday, NOW ), two more are using me as a sounding board for his frustrated love life, the madre is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, etc.

All the while I’m feeling like jerk, because I just wish they’d go away and leave me alone to play Civ III and watch my new DVD of Young Frankenstein. Ah, well - It sucks being Mr. Accomodation :slight_smile: .

  • Tamerlane
11

Cranky, the boy is normal. They just do that at that age. Stay sweet and patient, so he can learn that from you. And teach him how to control his emotions, it can be done. I know you probably already know this, but he is about the age where they start to learn what is the appropriate response to things. When he is bad hold him, tell him that you love him, but that what he is doing is wrong and why. For mine when he gets out of control I have taught him to take deep breaths and to think about what he is doing. I don’t know that the deep breaths actually do anything physically, but it gives him something to focus on besides defiance and mischief. I wasn’t sure at first, but I am definitely seeing good results from him in the past few months and I scarcely ever need to remind him anymore.

I’ll leave the other stuff to you and the experts. Good luck.
[sub]Mama said there’d be days like this
There’d be days like this, Mama said.[/sub]

12

OMG, Nachos4Sara and I disagree on a book?!? Noooooooooo! It can’t be possible!!! :wink:

I like Anita Shreve, although, yes, she can be a little hard to understand. I really liked The Pilot’s Wife, but when I finished The Last Time They Met, I was saying, “WTF?”

Which one are you reading, Cranky?
I do understand what you’re feeling. I get those days, too, when EVERYONE is getting on my nerves. Hubby, kids, cats, just everything. In fact, yesterday was my bad day. More specifically, the evening. It was Thursday, the one night I like to watch TV. Survivor, CSI and ER. All I ask is peace and quiet from 8:00 to 11:00. Just shut up and leave me alone, okay? Hubby keeps asking stupid questions about each show. He misses several weeks, and then wants me to catch him up while watching it. I had to explain every little thing, which of course means I’m missing what’s happening right now. Sweetie, I love you, but shut the fuck up!!!

13

That’s exactly the one I am reading: The Last Time They Met.

I sort of managed to endure “Fortune’s Rocks,” when I wasn’t being driven crazy by the extreme attention to every single niggling detail of a woman’s starched petticoat waving in the ocean breeze… I also read the one about the Norwegian women who went nutso on that island. I had forgotten she’d written it until the characters popped up again in this current one. I’m just losing patience.

14

The Weight Of Water was the other one. If you ever finish TLTTM, let me know what you thought of it. Definitely an odd one. It’s really weird how it ties in with WoW.

15

So that’s what those damn things are. All I know is that they look exactly like ladybugs, but the little fuckers bite! I’ve had a swarm of them in my neighborhood over the last couple of weeks or so.

16

I won’t post the ‘here’s some one who has it worse’ (there’s nothing worse than bein’ in a pissy mood and have some one show up with a worse life), but allow me to dangle a few possabilities in front of your eyes:

I, personally, carry with me at all times, multitudes of photos of my son at these various ages. Little did I know (and no, that’s not the child that Sally Struthers wants to to save ‘little Didino doesn’t have enough to eat’ ), anyhow, little did I know that when he was busy tossing the oven timer into the toilet (I’d used it to time his ‘time outs’), there would be the day that I could drive him absolutely fucking up a tree by merely pulling my wallet full of photos out in front of his contemporaries.

Treasure these moments for they will become fodder for blackmail in another 14 or so years, trust me :D.

and, as far as the disseration is concerned, just think how cool it will be when we all have to refer to you as DRCrankyAsAnOldMan

17

I think I’ve been in that mood not just tonight but every night for the past two weeks. Course getting laid off hasn’t help my attitude. And then realizing the job I had was utterly meaningless anyway. I want to find a job that either is worth doing or I at least enjoy doing. I also want peace on Earth, a starship, and a pony.

But it was a very fine rant Cranky.

Find another book to read though. Life’s too short to spend your leisure time reading a bad book. I really like Anne Rice, but I’ve had to throw the towel in on a few of her works.

18

Fuck the dissertation. I’m giving you a diploma for this rant. My favorite:

19

Well, Cranky, since you asked in your last sentence, yep, I am a bit pissed off tonight. It seems I can’t date the bartender in my local bar without causing an uproar.

It’s like “As the bar turns” soap opera bullshit.
“When are you two getting married” “Did you screw Deb last night?” “Oh, now you get free drinks huh?”

It seems these people wake up in the morning, and their first thought is “what the fuck is so an so doing”. Screw those no life fucks.

I haven’t seen such junior high bullshit in 30 years.

Help me kill this bottle of Cuervo, fuck em.

20

Oh, Cranky. I was gonna post a rant like this a couple of days ago, but I was so pissed off I didn’t think it would do me any good.

My kids have horns too. Dear Goddess, where they get their ideas for destruction I do NOT know. All I know is that they’re really effing good at it. Not just “oops, sorry Mommy, I bwoke it,” but “WHEEEEE! Let’s see how many pieces we can break it in to!” They’re bright, cute, happy kids, and I actually can dress them up and take them out in public. I just can’t have them in my house.

Potty training? NOT. My son just turned two. Not even remotely interested. Nope. Oh, he’ll play with himself whenever he can–he is a boy. But go potty? Nuh-uh.

How about my job? Oh, I like the actual work that I do. There’s plenty of it, and it keeps me busy and medically insured. My bosses are nice, too. But several of my colleagues can fry in bloody red Hell. Know what they did? They had a potluck on Wednesday. Now, my office potlucks are good. There’s no sucky cooks in my office. But you know what they didn’t do? They didn’t ask me. I walked in Wednesday morning and saw all this stuff laid out, and said “WTF???” I spoke to one of my supervisors (I’ll call her P) later that morning, and asked her about it–no, scratch that. I told her right out that my colleagues could go to hell. She looked shocked. She hadn’t been the one to organize it, so she had no idea that I’d been overlooked. She told me that she was sure it was just an oversight, because I had been gone on the day the sign-up sheet had gone around. I said “I don’t fucking care. They can read. Someone had to know that I wasn’t on that list. Someone was perfectly capable of pulling their head out of their ass for just a moment to say ‘Hey, Persephone’s not on here. Oh wait, she was gone the day we came up with the idea. Let me drop this on her desk.’ But they didn’t. Fuck them and the horses they rode in on.”

Later that day, one of my colleagues (not the one who’d organized this fest) approached me, apologized quite sincerely, and nearly begged me to get up and get some food. I said thanks, I appreciate the apology, but no. It’s a matter of principle. Throughout the day, a couple of other people did the same thing. My response was the same. Polite, sincere (I did appreciate the apologies, even though they were coming from people who had no need to apologize), but still no. Someone didn’t want my participation. I won’t offend that someone by eating her food. Yes, I know who that someone is. That someone still hasn’t spoken to me. And she won’t, either. I know her well enough to know that she doesn’t think she’s done a damn thing wrong. And nothing will ever change her mind.

I was going to start on how I can’t seem to train my husband to keep this house clean, since he’s home all day, but that work-rant was very cathartic. I do feel a bit better. I think I’ll skip the desperate-finances rant, too. Maybe later.